Medieval Tales

The stories featured here could have happened during the same decades as the Albin and the
Jouster series. Many are outtakes from the books. I am adding notes showing where each book begins. That will not only help you navigate but provide spoiler alerts as
needed.

Faithful Turncoats

1459 Near
Ludlow

Anthony
Woodville lay awake in the mid-October dark­ness, holding his hand over his cold nose. He prayed King Henry's army would win. He prayed that he would prove brave in battle. This would be a step
toward becoming a knight. He had dreamed of that for most of his nineteen years. It was growing light outside his tent. He wondered why no horns had sounded. Wrapping up in his great cloak and taking
his sword, Anthony ventured out into the frosty light.

At first he
saw no one. A few steps around a tent revealed the light of a cooking fire. Anthony smiled to himself, This is an odd way to begin a day of battle.

By the fire,
he found an old man heating a kettle of water. 'Is this not late to be rising for battle?' Anthony asked him.

The fellow
gave him a toothless laugh and explained. 'There will be no battle today. Captain Trollope came to us in the night with his men from Calais. They had agreed to help the Duke of York but refused to
fight against King Henry. When they saw the royal banner, they knew York meant to fight against the king's troops. They came to us seek­ing forgiveness and offering aid.'

Anthony
looked around with a strange, hollow feeling. 'No battle?' he repeated. He thought, Why did I sharpen my sword and pray so long?

There was no
battle. The Duke of York and his kinsmen fled from England. His nephew, the Earl of Warwick could not even return to Sandwich for the fleet he had gathered by piracy.

##############################

Grafton 1460

A
Homecoming

The rebel earls have come from Calais and captured
Henry VI. Claiming to be his faithful subjects, they have no excuse to hold the Duchess of Bedford's second husband and their son.

Puffy clouds frolicked on deep
blue sky. Their shad­ows lay almost directly below them when Lady Bedford and the younger child­ren arrived. Lionel, nine, came at full gallop on his gray with Martha close behind on her brown horse.
Soon little Jacquetta, Mary, and Cather­ine came trotting along. Their governess watched them carefully. Anne and Joan rode behind their nurses. Edward, who was only two, rode before her mother, the
duchess of Bedford. Behind them pikemen, servants, and carts clogged the road.

Anthony and Margaret hurried out
to meet them in the courtyard. Soon Anthony was swarmed by a brother and five little sisters asking questions all at once. 'Were they mean to you?' 'Did they hurt you?' 'Is Father
here?'

With a smile that lit up her face,
Duchess Jacquetta dismounted. The way opened for her through the press. ''Tis the answer to many prayers to see you here.'

'Including mine.' Anthony knelt to
receive her blessing.

'May Our Lord grant you your
heart's desires.' She hugged him as he rose.

'Most of them, I have here,' he
said enjoying the warmth.

Jacquetta brushed the hair back
from his forehead and gazed at him with sparkling eyes. Her lavender veil rippled back over her shoulders. "Is your father here?'

'Yes, Mother. We came straight
from Greenwich.'

She looked around for Lord Rivers,
her beloved husband. "'Where is your father?"

"He is dressing up to meet a
duchess."

Duchess Jacquetta laughed. "He was
not so formal, in Sandwich, when he was stolen from my bed."

book #1Stealthy Waters

House Chickens

Middleton, November 1460

Because of the flood, the chickens had started roosting in the rafters above
the Haywards' heads.

Is our cottage still
standing?Albin wondered. Through sprinkling rain, Albin and Garvin, his father, walked back to their cottage.

Garvin asked, "What can we do for
the chickens?"

Albin rubbed his earlobe. "Can they
care for themselves?" Do chickens have a patron saint? "'Tis sad they will not come if we call them."

They found the cottage standing in
nearly a foot of water. The wattle showed in more places than before. They stepped over the threshold. Albin looked up into the dimness. He saw movement. As his eyes adjusted he counted. "I see the
rooster and six hens," he reported.

His father frowned. "We cannot go
up after them. What can we do?"

Albin rubbed his earlobe
vigorously. "The cottage will come down soon. We need to make a hole in the roof so the chickens can escape."

"With
what?"

"We need a
billhook."

Garvin frowned. "My Uncle Sedgley
has one from the war in France."

The old man couldn't hear them very
well. Albin picked up the rusty billhook and tried to demonstrate the plan.

Albin nodded and bellowed, "We need
to break our roof." Then he grabbed the weapon and whisked out the door with it.

The old man tottered after them,
shouting something.

Albin stabbed at the roof. He
managed to frighten the chickens. By breaking a stick, he pulled down a wad of thatch.

With a frightened cackle, one hen
swooped down and out the door. I wish they would all do that.

"Here," Garvin took the billhook
and pulled down a little more thatch.

Uncle Sedgley waded in and shook
his head. "This cottage is about to come down," he shouted.

After Albin and Garvin each took
another turn, the hole was bigger than any of the chickens. "I think we should leave them now to get used to their new door," Garvin said.

Garvin returned the billhook.
"Thank you, Uncle Sedgley." Using it for a walking stick, the old man started shuffling home, muttering.

Albin looked back at the cottage
roof and saw the rooster standing on it. The cottage shuddered. I hope the chickens find a roost that will not fall.

##############################

book #2
Battle in Spring Sleet

Breaking a
Bridge

River Aire, March 1461

[I took this
fiction out of the book because I feel sure that Lord Scales's men were not the ones who broke the bridge. They probably used it to get to what became the
battlefield.]

Lord Scales bellowed to his army, “We can keep the Duke of Norfolk and his army from crossing the river here.” The baron held aloft the small keg. “We will destroy
the bridge.”

That
solid, stone bridge! Albin felt like laughing. He had admired how the rockwork held without mortar tighter than a leg
joint.

The baron
pointed at the bridge. “We will lower strong men over the sides of the bridge to open spaces between the stones and fill them with this black powder.”

Albin shaded
his eyes and gazed at the swift-flowing river.

Six
volunteers stepped forward. Albin made a face. George would be one of them.

They helped
George and the others over the edge of the bridge and gave them large iron picks and hammers.

“Men!” The
baron’s voice was tiring. “We also need six fast runners to light the fuses.”

This I
can do.Albin stepped forward. George would be too slow for this job.

Lord Scales
chose other young men and then looked at Albin.

Albin nodded.
“I am fast, my lord.”

Lord
Scales pressed his lips together thinking, and then nodded.

Albin, the
baron, and the other runners climbed up the arching bridge. The picks rang a rhythm on the keystones of the bridge. Albin and the other runners watched Lord Scales pour black powder from the keg onto
six rags. The baron tied each rag full of powder into a bundle and added a long fuse. “These are your wicks. At my signal, light them and run to join us on the
bank.”

When the
holes were ready, the baron gave the bundles to the men below to shove into the gaps they had made. Others helped the workers back onto the bridge. Albin grinned as George and the others
walked away. The baron gave the runners each a burning rush light and left.

Albin
sheltering his flame behind the bridge side. He reached over the side of the bridge and grasped the fuse.

Lord Scales
called, “Now!” Albin lighted the fuse and stepped back. It went out. He tried again. Men were hollering, “Run! Run!” The others were running. Did mine go out again? The other runners
were off the bridge. Albin started to take another look.

“Run!
Run!”

It must
be burning.He ran to the others. Seeing men with their hands over their ears, he turned and covered his ears too. Suddenly there was a
roar. Bridge stones and dust flew into the air. Then, like beads slipping off a string, stones splashed into the river to both ends. The waves slid downstream. Only the supports showed where
the bridge had been.

book
#3 The Enemy's Embrace

The Fate of
Grafton

Late Spring1461

This story, seen
from Albin's point of view, continues in The Enemy's Embrace.

Agatha found
Hannah cleaning a stained-glass window in Grafton's great hall. Hannah was muttering to herself. Agatha raised one minimal eyebrow.I think I can
learn her latest complaint. "How are you this sunny, spring morning?" Agatha asked.

"Stuck doing
this stupid job." Hannah turned and waved the little stick she was using. "What is the point of all this scrubbing ? The manor will be seized by that …"

"Don't say
it, Hannah. If you mean the Duke of York, be careful. He is huge—over six feet tall—and not far away. Besides, our duchess needs to negotiate with him." She blinked back tears.Oh that her first son could come back!

Hannah made a
face. "But I shall not proclaim that giant …"

Agatha raised
her hand in warning. "He became king by winning a huge battle."

Agatha looked
at the window. It pictured Jesus calling fishermen to be his disciples. The June sun shone through much blue glass representing water and sky. Agatha looked at Jesus's face with sunshine streaming
through it.Just so I saw the joys of life through Anthony's face. Now he has gone to heaven and we are without any joys. I am sure he went
straight to heaven. I cannot imagine a finer knight.

Then she
realized Hannah was speaking. "Whatever he is, that duke will drive us out of our home."

Agatha
sighed. "Have you any idea where you will go? Might you stay and serve the new owner?"

"No! I will
not serve a friend of that –"

"I might be
expected go to Burgundy with our duchess." Agatha's minimal eyebrows drew together.I may have to choose between my own parents, brothers,
and sisters and this big, kindly Woodville family.

Hannah
snorted. "How would you fare in Burgundy?"

"Not well
outside of the household. I have never worked on learning French."And I am not likely to learn much now. My mind barely works at all.She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

Servants in
black hurried quietly around the hall, clearing away breakfast. At least my hero died honorably in battle.

The steward
came into the room and Hannah returned to work. "It seems stupid to clean a house we are going to lose."

Agatha took a
step closer. "Have you not heard? That duke you like so little—our duchess has invited him to dinner."

Agatha
motioned for quiet. The Steward walked over. "What is the trouble here?" he demanded.

Hannah hung
her head. "I seem to remember our enemies too well."

"This is a
difficult time," he agreed. "We must bury our feelings and remember peaceful times when the lords were friends." He raised an instructive finger. "Let us remember that King Edward IV is no foreign
invader. He is descended from King Edward III through both his father and his mother."

"Will he be
coming here?" Agatha asked.

"Yes, in only
three days." He gestured across the room. "We must make this place shine and serve the best food his grace ever tasted. Flavor may help the duchess's negotiations for her husband. The duchess
and her daughters can charm him with kind words, sweet music, and playful glances. 'They might even save Grafton for us all."

The Steward
nodded. "Yes, our baron was captured in the battle and brought down to London. Our duchess needs to convince King Edward that the baron will serve him well."

"Is that
possible?" Agatha asked.

The steward
smiled hopefully. "She is the king's godmother." He moved on.

As Hannah
returned to her scrubbing, she muttered, "That is worth scrubbing for."

That
afternoon Agatha was ironing elegant gowns. All of them were black. In spite of her best efforts, she sprinkled them with some tears. Tears
seem frivolous. The loss of Lord Anthony does not call for drops of water but for rolling boulders.

"Which one is
it, my lady?" Agatha returned the iron to the stove. "Would it serve your ladyship to try it on as it is and then bring it back to be pressed?"

"I suppose."
The girl looked through the stack of satin gowns and sighed. "'Tis as hard to find as a certain raven." They spread the gowns out so she could recognize one with a narrow ruffle across where her
breasts were beginning to swell.

Katherine
started to leave and turned back. From pouting lips, she said. "We might not be going to Burgundy at all."

Agatha's eyes
widened. "Surely you desire to keep your home."

"I suppose,
but I do not want to be stuck here all my life."

Agatha smiled
at the pretty girl. "You shall marry a great lord and live in half a dozen castles."

Katherine
shrugged. "I suppose. But I would hate to wait here seven years."

Agatha
watched her storm out of the room with her arms full of black satin.She can have little idea of the world, living here in a family of fifteen who
love one another. No, only fourteen. The finest of them all is gone. But his father may return. 'Tis no surprise that the Duchess of Bedford eloped with Sir Richard. Few love with such grandeur and
grace. I shall not. Perhaps I belong in a convent. My heart died in the Palm Sunday snow.Agatha labored on.

The next day,
she found herself hanging white table cloths out to dry. A youth with the use of only one arm helped her. It was good to tell about the Woodvilles to someone who knew very few of the
stories.

She glanced
at is dangling arm. "You have suffered a loss too."

"Yes, indeed.
Middleton Manor has lost a fine baron. We can never do so well again."

"His widow is
here, you know," she said.

The youth
nodded. "Might your duchess marry again?"

Agatha was
shocked. "How could she—ever. "How could I marry either.

Much later,
she fell exhausted on her pallet and wept for an hour and more.

While the
Woodvilles entertained the king and the kitchen staff ran steadily turning out excellent food, the clothing makers had very little to do.

"Are you
still at that window!" an older woman asked Agatha.

She shrugged.
"I have seen a cat, a dog, and four squirrels."

The woman
chuckled. "Has it come to this?" She and Agatha sat down on the window seats. "Would you like to go to Burgundy?" she asked.

"It matter
little to me. It would be sad to leave this family—or my family."

"Then you are
over half way to accepting whichever comes."

My
feelings are so near dead—.She mended her own best dress. Other women were talking about the Woodvilles. "Lord Rivers would be able to
teach jousting."

Another
nodded. "He certainly has done well with his sons."

At least
I saw Anthony practicing his jousting. I am even more thankful I saw him at prayer. Surely he is in heaven even now.

Late in the
evening, Agatha heard cheerful sounds. She made her way to the solar and found the duchess, three daughters, and Lady Scales. "Come with me to the chapel," the duchess was saying. "Let us return
thanks for this joy."

The ladies
trooped out leaving Hannah and another worker behind. "What is it?" Agatha asked.

"Edward is
holding both barons. They are in the Tower of London."

"Both—?"
Agatha rubbed her forehead.I am making no sense of this.

Hannah gave
her a humiliating look. "Lord Scales."

Agatha's
world tilted and everything looked strange. "Lord Scales lives?" She could hear others chattering and laughing. What a frivolous way
to greet the return of life.

Sir Anthony Woodville knocked at a
thatched farm cottage near Cowbridge, Wales. A woman with full lips and luminous green eyes answered the door. She held a baby in her arms. “Tony!” She stepped back in
astonishment.

Gwentlian and her husband have
a child.“I congratulate you. What is the baby’s name?”

She looked at him archly. “He is
Adam. I am starting afresh.”

Anthony nodded.
“Congratulations to both of you.” He took another step into the firelit room. The shadow of a string of onions danced on the ceiling. “I have less than half an hour,” he said. “But I do want to
see Margaret.”

Margaret came toward him very
sedately for a six-year-old. She did not stare long at her visitor. Long lashes veiled her dark eyes as she looked down at the ladle she was carrying. Playfully, she asked, “What would you like in
your stew?”

“Nay. ‘Tis all pretend. She has
served me many a dish of apricot leaves and pits.”

Margaret raised her chin and
announced, “I will learn to bake.”

Anthony squatted down near her.
“What do you wish to bake?”

She looked squarely up at him.
“Chicken pie.”

Anthony smiled. “A very good
choice. I am sure I would like it.” So close to her gaze, Anthony suddenly realized he was empty handed. How could I have come to my daughter without a gift? What have I that a little girl might
like? “Can you draw?” he asked.

Gwenlian scoffed. “What has she to
draw with besides a stick in the dust?”

“Find her some charcoal.” Anthony
started digging through his pack and brought out a roll of paper. He gave his daughter five sheets. “You will find a way to make beau­ti­ful pictures on this.”

“I need paint,” Margaret
said.

Anthony glanced at Gwentlian who
shook her head. “When you are older,” he promised. “Maybe someone can show you how to fold paper flowers.”

“Lilies but no white roses,”
Gwentlian said slyly. “Show him what you are making, Margaret.”

The girl went to a wall hung with
clothes and brought back a small, tan item from a peg. She spread out an apron.

Anthony lifted a corner and
admired the stitches that staggered across it. “When you are ready to make your own kirtle, I will send you the material. What color do you like?”

“Purple,” Margaret
said.

Anthony's arching eyebrows shot
up. She has the tastes of an empress. “I will see what I can do,” Anthony promised. Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, he departed. As he rode back to town, he wondered. Does she see
herself as the granddaughter of a royal duchess? Are others jealous? I try to give her only things that her neighbors have.

She is as beautiful as her
mother.

################################################

book #5 A
Hollow Vow

[In A Hollow Vow, Albin must ride across the site of the Battle of Towton by himself.]

A Hollow Vow

The Killing
Field

January 1463

In York, Albin shivered. I expect to be able to
sleep so near the killing field? He frowned. Of course, I did before the battle. But then, I expected our army to win.

At a monastery, he did sleep and then eat a hearty
breakfast. As he rode on, he talked to his horse. "Smokey, I know we are crossing the battlefield, but—in less than two years—nothing looks the way I remember." He gazed across the waves of
fields stretching into the distance. He told Smokey, "Our great army stretched for a mile across one of these. Another huge army came up the hill attacking us. The wind carried their arrows into our
ranks before we could get one near theirs. Then it started to snow." He patted Smokey's neck. "You are glad you were not here. I barely dodged a crazed horse with an arrow in its neck."

When they reached the River Aire, Albin drew rein.
"They have done a good job of rebuilding the bridge. It was frightening to cross it half destroyed." He looked at the patches of mushy old ice along the bank. The water looks calm now. England
looks calm too, but there are unseen currents.

##############################

A Kitchen for
News

February 1463

The news
I learn from Mistress Hays always seem to be right. Albin headed for her kitchen.

There, a
bright-eyed, birdlike woman looked around from watching a man pound dough. Although she was well over sixty, she was in charge. She wore a big, leather apron and had a wreath of gray hair wrapped
around her head. “You are late for dinner, Albin,” she said in a cracking voice. Two men looked up from their work.

Mistress Hays
pointed to Albin’s useless arm. “Are you better than when we served dinner to the king?”

Albin smiled.
“My arm is still like an overcooked bean. But my job is better. I just carried a message from Middleton."

The queen of
the kitchen smiled between her wrinkles. "You like being a messenger."

"Indeed
I do. 'Tis such a free feeling to ride mile after mile. And I seem to get along well with the horses." He swallowed some of the beer she handed him and wiped foam off his lip. "What news
here?"

She gave him
a teasing look. "The dead are making the news."

Albin
started. "Ghosts?"

Grinning, she
shook her head. "King Edward and his cousin of Warwick have been reburying their fathers and the king's brother."

"Then his
grace must not be expecting an invasion from Scotland after all."

Mistress Hays
laughed. "Who would lead it. Somerset is with the king."

##############################

Cousin Birdface in 1463

As soon as
Albin arrived at his parents’ new cottage in Middleton's village, Birdface bounded in the door. A soft and wavy beard made his huge nose less extreme and hid his receding
chin.

Albin stroked
his cousin’s beard. “That is nice! It does make you look much better.”

Birdface
smiled. “Maybe that is why people call me Edmond now. Better, I played the hero.”

Albin’s eyes
widened. “How?”

“Rosamond
called for help. A squire was trying to steal a kiss."

“Little
wonder, Genovefa’s sister is a lovely girl." The image of Genovefa and her great fan of hair came clearly to Albin's mind.

“I went to
her aid.” Edmond grinned broadly.

“Birdface the
hero! I hope you did not lose a fight to the squire.”

Edmond tossed
his head. “No, I think he decided Rosamond was beneath him. Since then, she has danced with me three times. He held up three fingers. She makes me feel I am all right.”

Albin clapped
him on the back. “You have always been better than ‘all right.'"

“And—Thomas
decided to go in with me on the wagon. We almost have enough money for all four wheels. He has a tree we can use to make the box.”

Albin clapped
his cousin on the shoulder. “Good for you, Birdface.

"Rosamond
always calls me Edmond."

Albin made a
silly, smiling face. "Bir—um, Edmond, Rosamond is a lovely girl. Do you…"

"I love her,
Albin." He flung out his arms. "It would be the greatest possible joy to spend my life making her happy."

Albin smiled.
"Why not? You are a kind and steady fellow. You could make her happy." He clapped his cousin on the arm. "Yes, I will speak for you to her and her parents."

Birdface sees London

1463

Birdface got to go with Albin on
an errand to London. Birdface’s beard seemed like a fringe on his grin as he tried to see everything in the city. He saw a duke on horseback followed by a score of armed men. Birdface watched
children throwing filth at a man locked in the stocks. “I wonder what he did to them.”

Albin shrugged his good
shoulder. “Maybe nothing. Some people just like to throw filth.”

They turned a corner and entered yet another dim street
overhung with upper floors. “Can you really find your way through these streets?” Birdface asked.

Albin nodded. “Use buildings as
landmarks, Birdface. A street vender may not be in his place.”

Birdface's jaw dropped when he
saw a dwarf dancing for pennies. What fun it is to watch Birdface gawk at everything!

The cousins hurried on past a
woman with pies to sell. Suddenly Albin turned around.

“What?” Birdface
asked.

“Do you see those men down by
the knife shop?”

Birdface looked and nodded. “Two
big men. Oh! Are those the men who are after you?!”

Albin nodded. “Have they moved
on?”

“They are coming this
way.”

Albin walking through the
nearest door.

“A bath, gentlemen?” a broad man
greeted them with a broad smile.

“How much?” Albin asked. “Is the
water hot?”

Birdface turned from watching
out the door. “Okay, they have passed.” The cousins continued walked on down the street. “I think we need archers. We can hardly take them alive.”

“Did you see their clothes?”
Albin asked. “Were they wearing a badge?”

Birdface wore a puzzled frown.
"What?"

"The picture that their lord
puts on everything. I am proud to wear Lord Scales's scallop shell."

Birdface frowned. "Except when
it makes you target of huge men."

As they walked on, Albin kept
trying to help Birdface remember. “The cloth was blue. Was there a picture, an animal maybe?”

They were back at the Scales
home when Albin asked, "Did the picture have chains on it?"

Suddenly, Birdface grinned.
"Yes! It had chains on each side of a square things with bars."

"Yes!" Albin slapped him
on the back. "'Tis the Beaufort portcullis!” He took Birdface by the shoulders and whispered. “They are Somerset’s men. When they captured me, one of them called Margaret a queen. Somerset is a
traitor to King Edward!”

##############################

A Name to Drop

Leicester, England, March 5,
1463

“Plato!”

“What?” Albin
roused from sleep and looked at the shadow that was Squire Baldwin.

“A person.”
Baldwin chuckled. “I think he was a wise man who told how govern­ments work.”

“He would
have been wise enough not to wake his bunkmate.” Albin frowned and turned on his other side. Traveling with Baldwin, who was still in his teens, could be fun—in the daytime.

“Oh, sorry.
But I do think we could use his name to sound more like students.”

“I think I
would like a good snore about now.” But now he was awake. “Yes” he thought. “We can name some wise men and say we like or dislike their ideas. Just as long as we meet no real
students.”

###########

Two Giant
Brothers

Summer 1463

Albin was resting in the common room
when two huge men came in. He gasped and covered his mouth. Those are the men who captured me. The iron was hot.I barely escaped branding. Bending down, Albin began
scratching a tiny crumb off the tail of his tunic. Saint somebody, you defended me then. But now I am in town, I can learn who you are.

He watched through his eyelashes until
the men were talking with the waiter. Carefully, he got up and slipped out the door. He hurried to the nearest church. Inside, he found—no one. With a sigh of disappointment, he dropped to his knees
and settled into prayer. Who are you, the saint who answered my prayers when those giants captured me?

Before Albin had finished two 'Pater
Nosters,' a friar came in with a wax-board.

He may be a teacher.
Albin strode over to the friar and bowed to him. "Please, father, I have a question."

The friar smiled. "I am no priest, but I
will help you if I can."

"Thank you. I am a messenger for a
baron. Who is the patron saint of messengers?"

The friar scowled in thought. "Saint
Joseph aids travelers." Then he straightened and smiled. "You have a powerful patron. Archangel Gabriel is the patron of messengers. He is one of the seven who stand always before the throne of God."
The friar took a step closer and lowered his voice. "Is there someone you fear?"

Albin nodded. "Two giant brothers who
captured me last spring. Gabriel must have helped me because I was able to talk my way free."

"Do these men serve some
lord?"

"Somerset," Albin
said.

"The duke?" The monk's eyebrows rose in
surprise.

Albin nodded.

"What are they doing here? King Edward
sent the duke to his castle in Wales."

I know. I helped encourage that
move. Images from the riot in Northampton flitted through his mind.

"Where are they now?" the friar
asked.

"At the inn. I think they were ordering
dinner."

"Then, if you are ready to ride, this
could be the best moment to do so."

Albin
thanked him and headed for the stable.

#####################################

book
#6 The King's Beloved

“You saw a poor sample of London, Edmond," Albin said. "I think I can
show you even a bit of some palaces.” Albin pointed toward the south.

Edmond leaned on his rake handle and gazed toward the horizon. “I would love to see these
things, Albin,” he admitted to his cousin.

“Oh, you must!” Albin answered. “London is a feast to be savored by the
young.”

Edmond sighed. “Must? I am a married man now. I must care for my wife and my
home."

“I am happy for you in that.” Albin twirled an orange maple leaf. “But this
may be your last chance to go. Look, Rosamond will be just fine with her mother and sisters so near. After you have children, you could be trapped here.”

Edmond frowned. “I like not to think I am trapped. Rosamond and I love each
other. I may not see a lot of earth, but I enjoy a bit of heaven.”

#####################################

book #7 A
Winter Bride

Jacquetta's 1465
Christmas Letter

Dear Friends, I greet thee
well,

Elizabeth's coronationdominated 1465 for us—and many others. Our Anne married Henry Bourchier and Joan married Anthony Grey. I believe they will get along quite
well.

John and Catherine seem to be
enjoying themselves—on horseback of course. (She is amazing for being nearly seventy.) I wish I could say the same for Katherine and Henry, Duke of Buckingham. Much of their problem is youth. I pray
they will outgrow their unfriendliness and become comfortable adults together.

Our Lionel does well with his
Latin. I can imagine him becoming a bishop.

I have a wonderful colt who I
expect to grow up into a fine horse for travel. That is important now many of my children are scattered across England.

One unfinished story involves the
emprise the queen gave to Anthony last spring. He has invited the bastard of Burgundy to fight him for it. It cannot happen soon enough for Anthon y, but Burgundy has gone to war with the King
Louis of France. (I encouraged King Edward to side with our long-term friends in Burgundy. I do not trust that slippery French king.)

May your herds and crops thrive.
May God and Our Lady shower you with blessings through 1466.

Jacquetta of
Luxemburg

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Strange
Presents

"What is in
there?" Baron Rivers demanded. He pointed at a covered object Baldwin Green had his arms around. Tall as Baldwin was, it almost came up to his eyebrows.

Lord Anthony
smiled, "That, dear father, is a wedding present for Margaret." He whisked the linen cover off of a basket shaped like a bird cage.

Lord Rivers
peered between the willow wands. He moved around and took another look. "What are those lizards doing in there?"

Anthony
chuckled. "At least you didn’t ask where the bird went."

Lord Rivers
sniffed. "Neither do I suppose birds turned magically into these creatures."

Anthony
frowned in frustration. "You have a better idea? If not this—what would they like?"

Baron Rivers
smiled. "It so happens that Lord and Lady Maltravers need a change of horses."

"Horses!? Surely they have
many."

"They could
visit Grafton in three days. But that would take another change of horses. Your mother and I are giving them a pair of horses. Your brothers are arranging for the horses to be kept at a good
stable in Leighton Buzzard. I think they would like some help."

Baron Anthony
rested his chin on a crooked finger in thought.

His father
raised an eyebrow and waited. "I know 'tis not showy—certainly not like these lizards, but it will be useful and appreciated."

Lord Anthony
stiffened. "I need not be 'showy.'"

"Talk to John
and Richard about it," his father advised. "Oh, and find a place to hide these lizards. I think they will make an excellent Christmas present. Most likely, we will all be at Sheen Palace. Now, there
is a place to be showy."

Baron Anthony
laughed. "Before our king and new queen." He looked down at the chameleons. "Can you two put on a royal show?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

A Winter
Bride

The Magic Disk

Aha, I shall show her my magic disk.He brought a bulging metal disk out of his pocket.

"What is that?" Daphne asked.

Albin opened the cover. A needle lay across the middle
of the space. Albin turned the disk and Daphne watched as the needle adjusted to point the same direction. "Do you know which way 'tis pointing?" Albin asked. Daphne squinted up the road the had just
covered. "North," she said. "Does it always do that?"

He handed it to her and she turned it clear around.
"That is wonderful! We could use something like that for our travels."

Albin nodded. "I needed this compass so much that Lord
Scales bought it for me."

Daphne gave a dismissive wave. "I don't believe you
get lost."

Albin told her about a time when he
did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Setting the Record Straight

Bruges, April 24,
1465

The guard
challenged Master Walter and Albin at the door of the finest home in Bruge.

Albin
grinned. I understood the guard’s French!

“We come from King Edward of England seeking Count du la Roche, the grand bastard of Burgundy,” Master Walter answered. The guard motioned
the captain over and the herald repeated it.

“He is not here,”
the captain said.

“Do you know
where he is?”

“Not I.” The
captain pinched his lips together. “Can you tell us, in French, about King Edward’s marriage?”

“Oui,” the herald
said.

“Come in. A good
story is likely to get you supper and a bed for the night.”

“We accept,”
Master Walter said.

They spent
hours drifting around the courtyard. Albin helped ask the whereabouts of the count du la Roche. Inside, Albin gazed about the hall. A display of swords made him shuddered, so he studied the
tapestries. These pictures are not like what I see in England—even in palaces. I must look closer. He saw deep landscapes and round figures. How do they do
that?

The travelers
enjoyed a fine supper. The lord of the hall called to Master Walter. “Give us the news from England.”

In his rich, deep
voice, Master Walter told how King Edward married secretly on May Day and did not tell his council until late September.

Albin smiled.
I saw him on May Day looking oh so pleased!

“Who is she?” the
lord of the house asked. “I have heard that she is a commoner.”

“Not so.” Master
Walters held up his hand. “She is the niece of the Count du St. Pol.”

The man combed is
fingers through his beard. “Then she is the daughter of Jacquetta of Luxembourg?”

“Exactly. She is
the oldest child of that lady. We are here on behalf of Jacquetta of Luxembourg’s oldest son.”

The man nodded.
“To buy?”

“No, sir, we have
a challenge to joust with the Count du la Roche. That is why we seek him.”

“Ah,” He wore a
longing look. “That would be fine sport to see.”

-Outtake fromA Gift of Peril

Meeting a
Veteran

Albin saw the
ferry crossing the Great Ouse. It was going away from him. Albin sighed.I am likely to wait half an hour for the ferry.He looked around for something to explore.

A man with a
long, white beard peered at him from under bushy, white eyebrows. He motioned Albin to join him on a bench.

“Were you
ever in battle?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Albin
said. “I was at the Palm Sunday field. Now I have but one good arm.” He stroked the useless one a bit.

The man
looked at him intently. “Were you an archer?”

Albin nodded.
He felt a grinding bitterness.I was an archer, now I am nothing.

“May Saint Sebastian keep you,”
he said. “Remember, 'tis a proud thing to be an archer.” He nodded his head so his beard flapped. “We destroyed the French on Saint Crispin’s Day.”

Albin turned
toward the man with the white beard. “You wereat Agincourt? I have longed to meet such a man.”

“I was there,
indeed. The French far outnumbered us. Worse, we were cold, hungry, and worn out from coughing. No one expected to see England again.” He nodded a dozen times. “King Henry was with us every step. He
must have prayed us up a miracle.

“The field was muddy and the
French horses often slipped and struggled. But...” He laid a withered hand on Albin’s arm. “It was our arrows that won the day. I put one through some count’s breastplate myself. He fell with a
splash of mud. We tore up those fancy Frenchmen, we archers.”

Albin nodded
but felt a chill of sadness. “Our baron told us of King Henry, his chivalry, and his valor.”His son may also be a King Henry but he seems best at
praying. And yet he did not ‘pray us up a miracle’ on Palm Sunday. Nor was he with us. He stayed in York with his queen while others led the battle.

All too soon
the ferry arrived. Albin thanked the old archer and wished him well. Clucking to his horse, he led it onto the ferry.

outtake from Gift of Peril

Castle
construction

In London, Albin
and Baldwin came to Baynard's Castle.Baldwin pointed. "King Edward's mother lives here. Duchess Cecily is beautiful and folks call her the rose
of Rabe."

A gray-haired man
was sitting on the ground near by. He was leaning against the castle wall. "I built it," he said.

Baldwin
laughed.

But Albin asked
the man, "This castle?"

The man nodded
with a grin.

Albin asked,
"What did you do? How many men were working on it? Were you using a crane?"

Baldwin
laughed.

The man ignored
the big squire and answered Albin. "The crane brought stones up to us on the walls. I have no idea how many men worked on it. There were over a hundred of us."

Albin talked
about it on the way home.

Baldwin shook his
great head. "I could learn much traveling with you."

Book 9 Woodvilles Rising

Italians

London 1465

The little man and his assistant
cut the mold open. Albin half expected Lord Scales to tumble onto the floor. But he stepped away and turned to look at the mold. The little man was explaining how they would use it to form the
body cast. "My assistant can deliver it to the ship," the little man assured the baron.

Lord Scales signaled stop. "I have
not settled this with the captain. When should I come for the casting?" He turned to Albin. "I wish you could speak Italian and go to Milan with it.

Two hours and a dinner later, they
arrived at the wharves. The Saint Nicholas rocked gently on the River Thames. Albin gazed up into the rigging and pictured the ship under full sail. Ships are beautiful to see and
miserable to ride.

Lord Scales talked to the captain
and hired space for the casting and for the two men to accompany it.

Two
men?

The baron turned to Albin. "You
can find me a trustworthy Italian. Many Italians live around here."

Albin was back the next day. He
bought a beer and sipped at it for an hour. He learned where the bartender came from and who some of his Italian customers were. The man did not respect Stephano. "He needs to dry his eyes and go to
work. He needs to be like Aroldo Ponte. He will do any job to keep a home for his family." The barkeeper spread his hands. "And they are both from Milan."

"Where can I find
Aro--?"

"Aroldo Ponte. He often works in
the stables at The Sun Dial."

Asking three more people brought
Albin to Aroldo. He was moving barrels into a wine cellar. "Aroldo," he called.

The man wiped his hands on his
tunic and walked over. He looked Albin up and down. "And whom may you be?"

"A servant looking for someone
from Milan," Albin answered.

"You found one. My beloved and I
fled that city four years ago. Our fathers refused to let us marry. Now we have love, two children..." He sighed. "..and little else."

Albin nodded. "Do you know of
Antonio Marketti in Milan?"

Aroldo laughed. "He is married to
my cousin Sophia." His smile brightened. "Are you looking for armor? He makes the best. Do you serve a jouster?"

"Lord Anthony Woodville," Albin
proudly announced.

"Ahh! London awaits a great
tournament. My kinsman can make him a fine suit of armor etched with any pattern your lord desires. "

Before sunset, Albin introduced
Aroldo Ponte to the baron.

"I have a translator," Lord Scales
explained, "Do you have any experience with armor?"

The man shrugged. "I can polish it
without naming any parts."

The baron grinned and shifted
forward. "Can you find this Antonio Marketti?"

"Si, he is married to my
cousin."

"Your English seems good, but that
may not be important if you are with Nicolo."

Aroldo met Nicolo the next day.
They do not seem friendly, but that is not necessary.

The baron and Albin accompanied
the casting from the shop to the ship. Nicolo and Aroldo both watched to see where it was stored. The baron nodded. "It should be safe there." He looked at the Italians. "And I will pray for your
safety and the ship's."

4/22/19

"The great ladies have both
broken contracts for the children's marriages. " Daphne grinned and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "You will remember that Thomas Grey was promised to a daughter of Lord and Lady Hastings. She is
still unborn."

Albin sucked in his breath. "I
will not forget how Lord Scales received that news. He supposed Hastings was disposing of some love-child got on a miller's daughter. He was ready to slay the man."

Daphne laughed. "Who could have
guessed that she would become our queen? Now she can break that promise without risk. So the ladies have contracted to marry their children together."

Albin whistled. "This is going to
infuriate somebody."

"Lord Hastings is such a close
and loyal follower of King Edward that I think he will not fuss. But his lady is a Nevil."

Albin swung out his hand. "Anyone
who is not a Nevil is married to one. 'Tis a wonder the king escaped marrying one of these cousins of his." He laughed. "He had to do it in the dark. I probably told you about seeing the king riding
to and from her home on May Day."

Lohengrin

In April 1465, Albin visited Brussels with a lot of time to admire the art.

He studied a tapestry picture
with the swan boat. An armed knight in a white surcoat stood in the boat. Albin grinned. Did no one tell him to sit down in a boat? And he is weighed down with armor
too!

An old woman came along, pointed
at the tapestry and asked something.

Albin smiled and spread his
hand. “I want to hear the story, but I have not the French.”

The woman smiled. “I English
little. See the lady? Men say she kill her brother. The knight come to save her. See? He win the trial by fight. The knight say she must never ask his name. She marry him.” The woman pointed to
the picture of the knight. “He leaving. She ask. He tell her. Then he must go away.”

“Thank you, um—merci
Madame.”

Book in progress: #12 Hide Me on
Stage

Spring
1469

The King's Vacati
on

In the spring of 1469, King Edward must have felt
like a winner. He had a queen he loved and three daughters who were growing beautiful like their mother. He had a satisfactory treaty with the powerful Duke of Burgundy—who was now his
brother-in-law. In fact, he had several in-laws married to great lords of England—and even Wales.

In the North, John Nevil dispersed Robin of
Redesdale’s rebels. In the West, Courtney and Hungerford could never trouble him again. Warwick was in Calais where, hopefully, he would mind the fleet and the English Channel and stay out of
trouble. If that wasn't enough, Edward also gave him responsibilities in the north: Westmoreland, Cumberland, and York.

Edward felt free to take a trip. He was thankful for
many things and would enjoy returning thanks at a shrine or two. East Anglia could use some attention, especially given the quarrel over Caister Castle. Then he had an inspiration: he would take the
dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk with him and mediate their quarrel. He could even demonstrate to his youngest brother, Richard of Gloucester, how it was done.

He chose the shrines at: Bury Saint Edmonds and
Walsingham. The latter specialized in babies. He had certainly been blessed with daughters. Now if St. Joseph and the Virgin Mary would just explain to God how badly he needed an
heir…